Lament
by ambiencealikw
Summary: Winning entry of Ollivanders Challenge – Week 4 – Prompt 5: The funerals of Fred Weasley and/or Remus/Tonks.


It doesn't feel like a celebration. They had won, but the cost was far too high. Harry sat in what was left of the Great Hall – still a dusty ruin after the Battle of Hogwarts – and mourned for those he had lost.

His parents, James and Lily Potter, his godfather, Sirius, Remus, a trusted teacher and advisor, Tonks, who had made him laugh, and Fred, who had been like an older brother. Dumbledore, who had guided him. Snape, who had protected him. Dobby, who had been fiercely loyal to the end.

There were others of course, friends and fellow students, taken far too young. Lavender and Colin, his fellow Gryffindors. Even Crabbe, who he didn't mourn as much as regret, and many others.

They had all died for him, because of him.

It had been decided by the Ministry that all of the funerals for the fallen would be held on the same day, on the lawn down by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. It was simpler. Get the entire mourning out of the way at once, so that they could turn their minds to more important matters, such as celebrating and rebuilding.

Harry didn't mind either way. He could see the appeal in a single funeral. No one had the strength to return day after day, for funeral after funeral. Let them all have one day together, before they return to their homes to mourn in peace.

Since the battle, only three days ago, Harry had been hiding out at Grimmauld Place. It was entirely his now, and he had kept his mind occupied by setting the place to rights. Earlier that year it had been infiltrated by the Death Eaters, and they were many repairs to be done. Harry now had a very respectable grasp of repairing and restoring spells.

It hadn't been enough to keep the grief at bay, but the pretence kept him sane.

'Harry,' a quiet, melodic voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Luna standing by the door. Her hair was pinned in an unruly mess above her head, and her clothes shimmered in the light filtering in from the holes in the ceiling. She wore golden, long, flowing robes and Harry couldn't help but smile. Even in the darkest of times, Luna could be counted on to lift his spirits, just with her presence.

'Luna,' he said warmly, inviting her with one hand to sit on the table beside him. She skipped over and joined him, slipping her hand into his. They sat there, side by side, and Harry could feel a sliver of hope returning to him through her silent comfort and support.

'I'm going to owl you some questions next week,' Luna said matter-of-factly after a few minutes. Harry turned to look at her quizzically.

'What for?' He asked, frowning slightly. He was too focussed on the funerals that would take place in just over an hour to follow her meaning.

'For the Quibbler. I'll interview you about the battle and killing Voldemort, which will keep the reporters off your back, and it will be good press for the Quibbler as well,' Luna explained.

Harry shook his head, amused. People thought Luna was ditzy and strange, but she had a strong mind for business.

'Sure, that sounds good,' Harry agreed. Anything that would lessen the deluge of reports harassing him was a great plan in his mind.

The only thing that had kept them at bay so far was that he had been made the new Secret Keeper of 12 Grimmauld Place, making it almost impossible for him to be reached there. Also, he knew from past experience that his words would not be taken out of context or changed to suit a different truth; Luna would tell the truth, plain and simple.

Harry hadn't realised that he had been so worried about giving interviews and to have such a simple solution presented to him, one that had worked so well already in the past, was a huge relief. He gave Luna a genuine smile, and she returned it dreamily.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of voices drifting in from outside. People were starting to arrive for the funerals.

So far, Harry had avoided the area by the lake, but now he needed to steel himself. He walked with Luna back outside, and, still hand in hand, they slowly made their way down to the lake. Harry recognised many of the people milling around outside. They noticed him almost immediately, and they began to congregate around him.

He led the procession of mourners to the seating that had been placed on a grassy hill that overlooked the black water.

'You should sit up the front, Harry,' Luna suggested. Harry nodded. He hugged her, whispering his thanks into her ear, and then made his way to the front.

Instead of sitting down, he stood at the front, facing the seats, waiting for everyone to arrive. He felt responsible for the people inside the coffins; they might not have died if he had not brought the war to Hogwarts. He was not so naïve as to take the entire blame himself, certainly that responsibility lay at the feet of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Still, he was full of regret and guilt. He had died and somehow returned, yet all these people were here because their loved ones had not been able to do the same thing. They would never see them again. They had passed on.

He saw the Weasleys arrive. Mrs Weasley was leaning heavily on the arm of her husband, grief lining her face. Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat, pushing away the tears through a force of will.

They all spotted him at the same time, and made their way towards him.

'Mrs Weasley, I'm so sorry,' Harry said hoarsely. The older woman, who had always been like a mother to him, launched herself into his arms.

'Oh, Harry,' she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks, 'it's not your fault.' She pulled away, patting his face affectionately.

'Harry,' Mr Weasley said with a solemn nod, shaking his hand.

'Mr Weasley, if I can do anything, anything at all,' Harry offered.

'I know, Harry m'boy. Thank you,' the redhead nodded. There were more lines on his face than ever before. Harry was struck suddenly be how much their grief had aged them. They both looked older and much more frail.

_The war stole so much from us, _Harry thought sadly.

The Weasleys moved away to their seats, leaving Ginny, Ron and Hermione standing with him.

'You'll stay?' He asked them. Ron gave him a gloomy smile, and Hermione pulled him into an affectionate hug. She stepped back, and Ron slipped his hand into hers. She blushed, and Harry was happy that they had each other to lean on.

'You already know the answer to that question, mate,' Ron said. Harry nodded.

He put his arm around Ginny, turning his attention to her.

'You should have been at the Burrow with us,' Ginny said quietly. 'You shouldn't have to grieve on your own.'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I will, after this, I just needed to think. It took a while to sink in, everything that happened.' He explained awkwardly.

'We're your family,' she reminded him. 'We're here for you, just like you've always been there for us.'

Harry felt a twinge of guilt. She was grieving for her brother. He should have been there to help her, instead of moping around at home. He had just focussed on getting away and finding his peace.

He still felt a little unstable, but Harry knew that coming to the funeral was necessary. It was the only way to accept what had happened and to begin to piece his life back together.

'Hello Harry,' said a deep voice from behind him. Harry immediately recognised the voice as belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The large man had been placed in charge of the Ministry until everything had settled down.

'Minister,' Harry greeted the older man with a handshake. 'It's good to see you.'

'And you, Harry,' the man said, offering him a rare smile. 'I think it's time to begin.'

Harry nodded, and led Ginny, Hermione and Ron to the front seats. They had been reserved for the 'heroes' of the Battle of Hogwarts and other important people, such as representatives of the Ministry and Hogwarts. They were joined by Neville Longbottom, who sat with Luna and Seamus, as well as a number of professors.

A small tabby cat weaved through the crowd, making its way to the front. She meowed a greeting to Harry, and then joined Kingsley at the podium. In moments, the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall stood at his side. They talked for a few moments, and then Minerva stepped forward to address the growing crowd.

'Please, everyone, be seated,' she instructed, her voice reaching to all despite the chatter thanks to a sonorous spell.

She conjured a few more rows of seating. There were more mourners present than expected. Minerva waited until everyone was seated before returning to the podium.

'We are here today to honour those who gave their lives here at Hogwarts. Without their sacrifice, we would not be standing here today,' she said solemnly. She bowed her head, and the crowd followed her example, bowing their heads in a few moments of silence to honour the dead.

She began to read a list of those who had perished in the battle, starting from the youngest students. She also read out, to the best of her knowledge, how they had been killed, to acknowledge their deaths and their heroics.

Her voice broke as she read the names of her Gryffindor students.

Colin Creevey, killing curse.

Lavender Brown, werewolf bite, Fenrir Greyback.

Fred Weasley, explosion.

As she read the names of the Order members and Aurors who had been killed in battle, Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bear to hear their names.

Remus Lupin, killing curse, Antonin Dolohov.

_We had him_, Harry railed. _We could have killed him._ The look of agony on Ron's face mirrored his own.

Nymphadora Tonks, cruciatus curse, followed by killing curse, Bellatrix Lestrange.

_Nymphadora. She hated that name_, Harry thought, as he remembered the look of disgust on her face as she instructed Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry to call her Tonks the first time they had met.

There were more than fifty names in total, almost half of which were students.

_They shouldn't have been there_, Harry thought mournfully. _It's my fault._

The wail of a baby interrupted the silence. Harry turned instinctively towards the sound.

To the side of the congregation stood a middle aged woman, holding a small baby, wrapped in a dark blue blanket. The baby was flailing its little fists, its face bright red.

Harry got to his feet, even as his heart was sinking to his stomach.

_How could he have forgotten about poor little Teddy? His own godson?_

He strode towards the woman and child purposefully. She offered him a wary smile.

'Andromeda,' he said hoarsely. He swiped his hand across his cheeks angrily as he finally lost the fight against his grief. 'I should've-'

'It's alright, Harry,' the woman said quietly. The first time he had met her, he had been horrified, assuming her to be Bellatrix. He knew better now, could see the kindness in her face, the laugh lines that had not been present in Bellatrix.

She offered Teddy to Harry, and he took the baby into his arms, smiling down at him fondly. Objectively, he had known that Teddy had been born. Remus had told them of his birth, and had asked him to be the godfather but this was their first meeting.

'Hello godson,' Harry said, looking at the baby in wonder. He could see Remus and Tonks in his chubby little face. Teddy stopped crying, his bright blue eyes focussed on the face floating above him.

Harry's eyes widened as the baby gurgled happily, and his mousy brown hair thickened and turned into a messy, black mess that resembled his own.

'He's a metamorphmagus like his mother,' Andromeda said proudly. Harry grinned at her, and then sobered as he remembered why they were at Hogwarts.

'Come sit with us,' he directed her towards the front, still holding Teddy in his arms.

Minerva smiled at them sadly, and conjured another chair for Andromeda. They made room for her, and Harry sat down, nodding his thanks to the Headmistress.

'Though the bodies of those who fell here will not be buried at Hogwarts, we will build a memorial to them here, on the school grounds. They will be remembered for many years to come,' Minerva explained.

Kingsley took over the podium, and began a long speech detailing how thankful the wizarding community was to those who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry zoned it out, and watched as Minerva began to transfigure a large tree at the edge of the lake into an enormous spiralling, branching memorial.

It was the same gold as Luna's dress, and on each branch was inscribed a name of the heroic few who had perished during the Battle in the colours of their houses.

Harry was touched to see the Remus and Tonks were placed on the same branch, one red and the other yellow.

Professor Flitwick moved towards Minerva and they conferred in hushed tones. They nodded, and Filius stepped towards the golden tree, charming a number of bizarre holes into it. Harry frowned in confusion.

Kingsley finished his speech, and turned towards the two professors expectantly. Their work done, they stepped back also.

As one, the professors lifted their wands, conjuring a light breeze. As it flew through the holes that Harry had noticed, they created a haunting melody. As the wind grew stronger, the noise grew louder, and the more intricate the song became.

There was not a single dry eye in the entire gathering. Somehow, the music seemed to unlock the grief they held in their hearts and set it free. Many, who had been unable to cry before now found that they were finally able to do so.

Harry looked down at his godson, this unfortunate orphan, who gurgled so happily to the music, and knew that the healing could finally begin.


End file.
